Chapter Twenty One.
The “Aurora” turns up again.
That same day George waited upon the admiral and formally laid claim to the Jeune Virginie. He was very well received, his statement patiently listened to, and—to make a long story short—in about three weeks afterwards the claim was actually allowed, and the vessel handed over to her rightful owners.
George was agreeably surprised, for—notwithstanding Bowen’s implicit confidence—he fully anticipated that there would be some trouble over the matter. Legal possession once obtained, Leicester had no difficulty in raising money by means of a bottomry bond, and with this he provisioned the brig for six months, intending to take out letters of marque, and endeavour to make good his losses—a resolution in which he was cordially seconded by Bowen.
But, though all this gave him plenty of occupation, he had not forgotten his old crew, and he found—or rather took—time, not only to prepare a complete list of the names and a full description of all those who were still—so far as he knew—in a state of slavery, but also to put it into the hands of the proper authorities, with such an urgent representation of their probable sufferings, that the matter was at once taken up; and he had the satisfaction of knowing, before he sailed, that negotiations were already in progress for their discovery and deliverance.
Considerable difficulty was experienced in obtaining a crew for the brig, good men being scarce; but at last this was overcome, and on a bright September morning the anchor was hove up, and the Virginie started upon her cruise. The shoals outside the harbour were cleared in due time, the brig working like a top, and sailing like a witch, to the unbounded delight of all hands; and then George hauled sharp up on the port tack, his intention being to cruise for a few days in the Windward and Caycos Passages before shaping a course for home.
For the first five days of their cruise they were singularly unlucky, seeing nothing but a man-o’-war schooner, which, on speaking, they found had been equally as unfortunate as themselves.
On the morning of the sixth day, however, being then in the neighbourhood of the Hogsties, the lookout aloft reported at daybreak a couple of sail dead to windward, hove-to close together. On the usual inquiries being made, the lookout further reported that one of the strangers was a barque; the rig of the other, which happened to be lying end-on, he could not clearly make out, but, from her size, he judged her to be a ship. Mr Bowen, whose watch it was, at once went below and informed George of this circumstance, and then, leaving him to don the most indispensable portions of his attire, returned to the deck, and proceeded thence aloft to have a look at the strangers for himself.
By the time that he had seen all that it was then possible to see, and had descended again to the deck, George was awaiting him there.
“Well, Bowen, what do you make of them?” was Leicester’s first inquiry.
“Well, there’s two of ’em there, sure enough, close together—a good deal too close together to be up to any good, to my thinking,” was the reply.
“What do you think they are, then?” asked George.
“One of ’em is a privateer—or a pirate; and t’other is her prize, in my opinion,” answered Bowen.
“Then we’ll make their further acquaintance,” said George. “Perhaps if we trim the canvas a bit slovenly, and act as though we had not seen these craft, we may coax down towards us the privateer, or whatever she is.”
“That’ll be the best plan, no doubt,” acquiesced the chief mate; and he proceeded forthwith on a tour round the decks, easing up a brace here, and a halliard there, with a touch also at the sheets and bowlines, by way of insuring an agreeable and harmonious result. When he had finished, the brig looked like a collier, and her speed had decreased from eight to a little over five knots.
“There,” said Bowen to George, with an admiring glance aloft at his own handiwork, “I think that’ll do pretty well; we look helpless enough now for anything. Masthead, ahoy!”—to the lookout aloft—“what about the strangers now?”
“They’ve dropped alongside one another, sir,” was the reply.
“Very well; keep your eye upon them, and let us know when you see any change in their movements.”
The stereotyped “Ay, ay,” by way of reply, was duly given, and then George and Bowen, side by side, and with hands folded behind them, began to trudge fore and aft, from the main-mast to the taffrail, patiently awaiting the course of events.
About a quarter of an hour elapsed, and then the lookout hailed again—
“On deck, there! The barque has cast off, and is standing down towards us. They’re busy getting the stunsails upon her now, sir.”
“All right; stay where you are, and let’s hear, if you see anything worth reporting,” replied Bowen.
A few minutes later another report was made to the effect that the other sail—a full-rigged ship—had filled, and was standing to the northward under all plain sail. That was the last news from either of the vessels, and, the barque shortly afterwards becoming visible from the deck, orders were given to clear the brig for action, and the lookout was ordered down on deck.
There was a capital working breeze, and not much sea; it was, consequently, not very long before the barque had raised her hull above the horizon. As soon as she was fairly in view, George brought his telescope to bear upon her, and ten minutes’ careful scrutiny sufficed to satisfy him that, though her spars were heavier, and she now showed a wider spread of canvas than of old, she was undoubtedly, as he had suspected, his own old ship, the Aurora. He further noted that she was not very deep in the water, being in fact just in her very best sailing-trim; and, remembering her former capabilities, he was not long in making up his mind that, if her present crew happened to become suspicious of the character of the Virginie, and shunned an engagement, it would be a very difficult matter to bring the Aurora to action.
But if those in possession of the barque entertained any misgivings, they certainly gave no visible indication of them: on the contrary, they came sweeping down upon the Virginie under a perfect cloud of canvas, and in a manner so obviously threatening, that, in order to maintain the illusion to the last, George thought it advisable to exhibit some slight signs of uneasiness, and he accordingly ordered the royals to be loosed and set, and edged away a point or two off his course, at the same time, however, checking his weather braces to such an extent that the brig’s speed was not very greatly improved by the manoeuvre. In the meantime the decks had been cleared, the guns loaded, and the crew fully armed with cutlass, pike, and pistol. The port-lids however, were kept carefully closed, so that the presence of the guns on board might not be revealed until an action should have become inevitable.
Mr Bowen had, in the midst of all his work, been watching the approach of the Aurora with grim satisfaction, gradually developing into a condition of supreme exhilaration. He rubbed his hands gleefully, laughed softly to himself, and exhibited, in short, all the outward characteristics of a thoroughly gratified man. Then he would draw a pistol from his belt, and carefully inspect the priming, pass his thumb meditatively along the edge of his cutlass, or casually test with his finger the sharpness of a pike-head, and at these times the expression of his countenance boded no good to the approaching enemy.
The Virginie’s crew were kept carefully out of sight, except some three or four hands, who were ostentatiously posted on the forecastle, with orders to assume an appearance of deep interest in the approach of the barque; but Bowen had carefully placed each man exactly where he wanted him, and as the Aurora came sweeping down upon the brig, invisible hands on board the latter gradually tautened up halliard, brace, tack, sheet, and bowline, until by the time that the two ships were within a mile of each other, every trace of slovenliness on board the Virginie had vanished, every sail was standing as flat as a board, and the brig was once more in a condition to be worked to the best advantage. This done, the men were ordered to their guns, and all was ready for the commencement of the struggle.
When within a distance of about three-quarters of a mile from the brig, the studding-sails of the Aurora were seen to suddenly collapse, and in a few seconds they had entirely disappeared, being taken in, all at once, man-o’-war fashion. This showed George, not only that his old craft was heavily manned, but also that she was in the command of a man who knew how to handle her. But the sight did not greatly disturb him; he had had time to discover that his own crew was a good one; he had studied the brig, and mastered her little peculiarities; and he awaited with perfect calmness the conflict which was now inevitable.
As the Aurora’s studding-sails fluttered out of sight, she sheered broadly to port; a flash, accompanied by a puff of white smoke, issued from her side, and in another instant a nine-pound shot skipped along the water and across the Virginie’s bow.
George decided to take no notice of this hint, and the brig held steadily on her course. Another shot followed, with a like result; and the pirates then decided apparently to waste no more powder and shot upon so contumacious a craft, but to make short work of the affair by simply running alongside and taking possession. The Aurora was accordingly steered in such a way as would admit of her making a wide sweep and shooting up alongside on the brig’s weather quarter. She was handled magnificently, there was no doubt of that; and presently, with a graceful sweep, she came surging up alongside, with the water spouting up in a clear transparent sheet under her sharp bows, her yards swinging simultaneously to meet her change of course, her white canvas gleaming in the brilliant sunlight, six long nine-pounders grinning through her bulwarks, and her deck crowded with men, as fair, yet as evil, a sight of its kind as the eye of man ever rested upon. At the same moment a blood-red flag streamed out over the taffrail and soared away aloft, until it fluttered out from the gaff-end—a fit emblem of rapine and murder.
“Red this time, by way of a change,” remarked Bowen to George, in allusion to their encounter with the pirate schooner, which fought under a black flag. “Well, a change is good sometimes,” he added philosophically. “Shall we give her a taste of our quality now, cap’n; she’s just shooting into the right position to get the full benefit of the dose of ‘round’ and ‘grape’ I’ve prepared for her?”
“Yes, give it her,” answered George, drawing his cutlass with one hand, and a pistol with the other.
“Throw open your ports, lads!” commanded Bowen; and at the word the port-lids flew apart, six twelve-pounders were run out on each side, and, as the barque was in the very act of sheering alongside, the Virginie’s starboard broadside was poured into her with murderous effect, as was evidenced by the frightful outburst of yells, groans, and imprecations which at once arose on board her. The broadside was returned, but without inflicting much damage, the pirates evidently having been taken completely by surprise by the sudden and unexpected unmasking of the brig’s guns.
The next moment the two vessels collided with a crash.
“Now look alive with your grappling-irons, and heave! Boarders, follow me!” cried George, dashing to the rail, and making a spring thence in upon the Aurora’s deck, Mr Bowen at the same time leading his detachment on board by way of the fore-rigging.
The Englishmen were met by a very formidable party, which had evidently been told off to board the brig, and in an instant a fierce and sanguinary mêlée arose on the Aurora’s deck. The Spaniards—for such they proved to be—though taken by surprise, and greatly disconcerted by the unexpectedly warm reception which they had met with from the brig, fought with the fury and desperation of demons, and for perhaps five minutes the crew of the Virginie had all their work cut out to maintain their position on the deck of the barque. The pirates, with that sanguinary symbol floating over their heads, and believing that they had been entrapped into attacking a man-o’-war, felt that the halter was already about their necks, and that there was literally no alternative but victory or death for them; and they pressed forward with such recklessness and ferocity that the deck speedily assumed the aspect of a human shambles, and the planking grew so slippery with blood that it became difficult to retain one’s footing upon it. There was one Spaniard in particular who appeared to possess the gift of ubiquity; he seemed to be in all parts of the ship at the same time, notwithstanding the crowded state of the confined space wherein the fight was raging, and in him George speedily recognised the truculent-looking individual who had led the pirates on the eventful night of the Aurora’s capture, and who had so brutally ill-used poor Bowen on the morning of the sale in the square at Havana. There could be no possible doubt as to his identity. There was the same ferocious cast of countenance, the same mahogany-brown skin, even the same filthy red handkerchief—now more filthy than ever—bound about his ragged locks, apparently the same broad-brimmed straw hat, in short, every mark of identification; nothing was wanting. This individual dashed from point to point, apparently by a mere effort of his will, encouraging here, chiding there, and helping everywhere. The mere fact of his presence, the mere sound of his voice, appeared to endue the pirates with renewed life and courage, and George speedily saw that there would be little hope of victory until this man could be placed hors de combat. He therefore pressed in toward him, plying his cutlass vigorously with one hand, and laying manfully about him with the butt of his empty pistol with the other, and calling upon the fellow by every despicable epithet he could think of to turn and meet him. He had very nearly reached him—there were only some half-a-dozen people between the two—when another voice, that of Bowen, was heard, and the next instant the chief mate, his eyes literally blazing with fury, appeared, forcing his way into the thickest of the throng. With the strength of a madman he seized and dashed aside all who ventured to bar his path, and in a single moment, so it seemed to George, forced himself within reach of his especial enemy.
“At last—at last—you bloodthirsty scoundrel—you white-livered coward—you who were not ashamed to strike a chained man—at last we meet again, as I told you we should!—and the time has come for me to pay off part of the debt I owe you—no, you don’t,”—skilfully guarding a savage down-stroke from the Spaniard’s cutlass, “and take that,” he added, launching out a terrific blow with his left fist, catching the Spaniard fairly between the eyes, and felling him to the deck senseless, as neatly as a butcher fells an ox. In another moment George was at Bowen’s side, and, placing themselves back to back, these two managed to successfully defend themselves until the crew of the Virginie, inspired by their leader’s example, had pressed in to their assistance, when the pirates, becoming scattered, were driven irresistibly to opposite ends of the ship, and some were actually driven overboard. Then recognising that they were defeated, and suddenly losing heart, they threw down their weapons, and cried for quarter. But the worst passions of the Virginia’s crew were by this time fully aroused; they thought of nothing but the fact that their enemies were pirates, men steeped to the lips in crime of the vilest description, and guilty of unnumbered deeds of blood-curdling atrocity, and many of the Spaniards were ruthlessly slaughtered before George and Bowen could induce them to stay their hands. Then, when order and authority were once more restored, heads were counted, and it was found that, out of a crew of over eighty, twenty-three pirates only—their leader included—remained alive, and these were promptly clapped in irons and bundled unceremoniously below. Strange to say, notwithstanding the desperate character of the fighting, the Virginie’s crew had suffered but slightly in comparison—nine killed and thirteen wounded being the total of the casualties. A short breathing-space was allowed the men to recover themselves after their extraordinary exertions, and then all hands set to work to clear the decks of the sickening evidences of the contest; the crew were next divided equally between the two ships, and, with Mr Bowen in command of the Aurora, both craft then made sail to windward in company.
The third craft—the full-rigged ship—meanwhile was still in sight from aloft, dodging about under easy canvas, and evidently waiting for the Aurora to rejoin. There could be little doubt, therefore, that she was in the possession of a prize-crew of the pirates, and George earnestly hoped he might be able to reach her in time to save the lives of some at least of those to whom she rightfully belonged.
A couple of hours later they were alongside—the Virginie on the weather and the Aurora on the lee quarter—with ports open, guns run out, and the English ensign flying at the peak, the red flag having been allowed to remain aloft on board the Aurora until ranging alongside the strange ship, when it was hauled down, and the English flag run up on board the barque and the brig simultaneously.
The pirates in possession were completely paralysed by the turn events had taken; they had evidently been under the impression that the Aurora, and not the Virginie had proved victorious; and now that they found themselves under the guns of both ships their mistake was past rectification.
Accordingly, at George’s order, they backed the main-yard and hove-to the ship, upon which a strong party, armed to the teeth, proceeded on board and took possession.
The ship proved to be the Vulcan, of and from Liverpool, bound to Kingston with a valuable general cargo and several passengers. She was a noble ship, being of nearly a thousand tons register, and a regular clipper.
On boarding her, George found the state of affairs pretty much what it had been on board the Aurora after her capture by these same pirates, her crew and the male passengers being discovered scattered about the deck, lashed helplessly neck and heels together, or chained to ring-bolts in the deck and bulwarks, whilst the pirates had taken possession of the cabin and had held a regular saturnalia there, in the progress of which the unfortunate lady passengers had been subjected to the vilest outrages, and one poor little child had been cruelly murdered before its distracted mother’s face. The captain and the chief mate of the ship were both found in the cabin in a dying condition, they having been mutilated in a most cruel and horrible manner in an ineffectual effort to wring from them the secret of the hiding-place of a large amount of specie which the pirates had somehow ascertained was on board. A tall and burly negro, the identical one who had acted as lieutenant to the Spaniard in charge of the Aurora on the occasion of her first capture, was at the head of the gang, and had been the instigator and chief perpetrator in the many outrages which had followed the capture of the Vulcan.
No time was lost in freeing the passengers and crew from their exceedingly unpleasant situation; and this done, the pirates, ten in number, heavily ironed, were transferred to the Virginie and stowed carefully away below. The Vulcan then proceeded on her voyage, in charge of her second mate, by whom George forwarded a letter to the admiral at Jamaica, informing him of the capture of the now notorious Aurora.
George now felt that, with two ships and so many desperate men to look after, he had his hands full, and he therefore decided to make the best of his way to England forthwith. He accordingly hailed Bowen, requesting him to give the Aurora’s stores an overhaul, and to ascertain whether her provisions and water were sufficient in quantity to justify them in making a push across the Atlantic. In about an hour an answer was returned to the effect that not only was there an abundance of everything, but that the ship herself was more than half full of a varied and very rich cargo, the spoils, doubtless, from many a missing vessel. Upon the receipt of this intelligence, orders were at once given for both ships to fill and make the best of their way to the northward in company, and by nightfall they were clear of the Caycos Passage and standing to the northward on a taut bowline under a heavy press of canvas.
The Virginie and Aurora made an excellent passage across the Atlantic. They stood to the northward until the Trades were cleared, when they fell in with fresh westerly winds, which carried them all the way across; and, as the weather was fine, they had no difficulty in keeping each other in sight during the whole passage, the two craft regulating their spread of canvas so that neither should outsail the other.
The passage was consequently an uneventful one, nothing worthy of note occurring until they were in the chops of the Channel. Then, indeed, an adventure befell them, which proved George to have been wise in his determination that the two vessels should make the voyage in company.
It was the last week in October. They had just struck soundings, when the two craft ran into a dense, raw fog, which compelled all hands to seek warmth and comfort in their thickest jackets, and necessitated, as a matter of prudence, the immediate shortening of sail.
The fog lasted a couple of hours, and when it cleared up the Aurora was discovered about two miles astern of the brig, and a large ship was at the same moment made out directly ahead. The stranger was hove-to under single-reefed topsails, with her head to the northward, her topsail-yards being just visible from the deck. The fact of her being hove-to in such a position seemed to point to the conclusion that she was a man-o’-war, and this supposition was confirmed when George took a look at her through his glass from the fore-topgallant-yard. She was a frigate, and French apparently, from the cut of her canvas; but of course it was quite possible that she might be in English hands, the English often taking French prizes into their own navy, and sending them to sea again with little or no alteration. Still, George thought it best to be on the safe side, and he accordingly at once ordered the Virginie to clear for action, the Aurora being signalled to do the same, his intention being to attack the frigate, if an enemy, since, as far as he could make out, she carried only twenty-four guns.
In the meantime, however, the brig and the barque had been discovered by the frigate, which at once made sail, and manoeuvred in such a manner as to intercept them.
Bowen, on the other hand, guessing at once what was in the wind, crowded sail upon the Aurora, and soon recovered his position alongside the Virginie, approaching the latter vessel within hailing distance, in order the better to concert plans for the possible coming engagement. These were soon arranged, but not before it had become pretty evident, from the comparatively clumsy handling of the stranger, that she was indeed French. Their doubts, such as they were, were set at rest when the frigate had approached within a mile of them, by her hoisting a tricolour at her gaff-end, and soon afterwards she sent a shot across their fore-foot as a polite intimation that they would oblige her by heaving-to.
They, however, did nothing of the kind; a piece of discourtesy which so preyed upon the French captain’s mind that, without more ado, he bore down upon them, and opened fire from his starboard broadside.
The three ships at that moment formed the three angles of a nearly equilateral triangle, the sides of which measured each about a quarter of a mile; the Virginie and the Aurora occupying, as it were, the two ends of the base, and the Frenchman being at the apex. This allowed both English ships to attack their enemy on the same side—the starboard—and compelled the Frenchman to fight them both with only half his battery. He soon saw how great a disadvantage he laboured under by this arrangement, and did all he could to get between them. But it was all to no purpose; George and Bowen were fully as wide-awake as he was, and they successfully defeated every effort of his in this direction, principally, it must be confessed, by some lucky shooting on their part, whereby the Frenchman’s spars and rigging were so cut up that the craft soon became practically unmanageable. At length, after a brisk fight of about twenty minutes, the Frenchman’s fore and main-topmasts both went simultaneously over the side, the frigate luffed into the wind, and obstinately remained there, and she was at George’s mercy. The Virginie at once made sail and took up a position across the enemy’s bows, the Aurora placed herself across his stern, and from these two advantageous positions a raking fire was opened, which, in less than five minutes, caused the Frenchman to haul down his flag and surrender.
The prize—which proved to be the twenty-four-gun frigate Cigne—was at once taken possession of by boats from both the Virginie and the Aurora, her crew secured, and her damages repaired; and about midnight the three vessels made sail in company, arriving without further adventure at Spithead on the day but one following.